Tsi'Mri
by Pachelbel
Summary: (Faded Sun Trilogy ficlet) Duncan wasn't the only one who went through changes in the Dark. And watching over his injured 'brother', Niun has little else to do but wonder...


Disclaimer: This takes place in, obviously, C.J. Cherryh's "Faded Sun" trilogy's world, with her characters. I love them but, alas, I did not create them.

A/N: Too much stress can make you decide to post a fic even when you know no one is going to read it. This is Niun's introspection on Kutath after he's found Duncan and is caring for him in the Kel tent, in case you have read the trilogy. But I'm assuming A) No one is reading this, and B) If you are, you don't know what the back story is... So if you're curious, you can always drop me a line and listen to me rave. Or...go read the books. That is my diabolical plan. With enough people also writing for this fandom, I could convince the administrators to give us a CJ Cherryh section!

Anyway, a short summary is this: Niun is one of the Mri. The Mri are a golden-skinned, golden eyed, bronze-haired species who hire themselves out as warriors. They've just fought--and lost--the war with the humans.

Niun "adopted" Duncan into the Mri and named him "sov-kela" (brother of the Kel), something which was technically forbidden since Mri don't take prisoners, and Duncan is a human. Luckily Duncan proved himself to Melein (the leader of the Mri, and Niun's sister) before she ordered Niun to kill him. So, at this point Niun is kel'anth (leader of the Kel, who are the warrior caste of the Mri) and he's caring for a sick and injured Duncan, to the curiosity of the other members of the Kel. The _mez_ and _zaidhe_ are the veil and headcloth the Kel wear when around outsiders, or when angry or dishonored by each other.

The dusei are bear-like companions of the Kel, who are able to turn a room into an emotional melting pot. Not always a good thing when you're trying to lie, or when you're planning to kill someone. Luckily it's possible to block them from getting into your head.

The hao'nath are also Mri, but they are an enemy tribe.

...Yeah, that was the "short" summary. Enjoy!

Tsi'Mri

By Pachelbel

The tent is a swirl of shadow-dulled colors and cautious whispers. Nearer to me is the slow, steady breathing of the dus. The warmth of mri and dusei bodies make what I hope is a comfortable haven for a sick kel'en. I can feel the numb comfort pouring out from his dus, Duncan's dus, and the relief at knowing he has this comfort lifts my thoughts from despair.

Of a sudden he shudders awake with a gurgling, violent cough. Blood shines at his lips and he wipes it away with his mez, ends up smearing more of it than he blots. My worry for him is so overwhelming I've begun to ache with tension.

There is so much I need to do...as kel'anth, as Melein's chosen. But each time the concern for what she would have me do tries to enter my thoughts, I glance at Duncan, as I so often do; for comfort, to assure myself, to tell him what to do and where not to go so that he will come out of it alive.

And then I see him as he is _now;_ shrunken, blood-smeared, pale, sweating when he is normally cold.... Sick. And Melein's concerns are pushed further and further back.

Images from the Dark, forbidden, rise before me anyway. I remember the first time I saw him. He wasn't so different as he is now, save he wore the uniform of a tsi'mri and he is shrouded in black here. But under the fire and steam and sand on Kesrith, he had been bloody and filthy also, wracked with the cough the world inflicted on him.

I had thought him disgusting then. His filthy salt-sweat human smell, his naked hairy face, the blood and dirt which clung to him when it did not to me. Hair is on his jaw and above his upper lip now; blood is slowly trailing from his nose and sometimes his mouth; he smells of human and mri-incense, both. I take it all, so long as he lives.

He coughs again, wincing with the pain of it; tears gather at the corners of his eyes but do not fall.

I sit up instantly, but he merely wipes again at his mouth and lays back with a sigh. His breath is gurgled with the blood. I would get anything he asked of me, anything at all, but he asks for nothing...and so I can only remain here in case he asks.

I reluctantly tilt my head in a nod at my own inner thoughts, and lay back beside him. I glance over the other kel'ein in the tent with us; as my eyes meet theirs, they look away. They've gathered, huddled, together and it makes me uneasy. They look like guilty conspirators, and my own exhaustion is banished in light of this new fear.

My hand twitches, longing to touch my weapons, but I resist it. That would be seen as challenge, and-I force myself to admit-it is more likely that they aren't plotting against us, but instead simply find Duncan a sight worth sneering and gossipping over.

I place my hand, lightly, on Duncan's shoulder. He seems to be sleeping now; but no, he asks very softly about the hao'nath, pain and exhaustion and illness slurring his words.

I tell him not to worry. He persists, and his words begin to sound disjointed, delirious. The cough lurks beneath his breath and I try to get him to stop talking and _sleep_; he needs sleep more than I need him to speak.

Fear leaps into my throat as the Kel encircle us; I reach for my weapons, stop short of drawing them when a bowl is placed in front of us. It pours oilwood smoke. I glower at them, suspicious, and Seras says flatly, "It will help."

I don't trust this. But I glance at Duncan to find his breathing eased a little, and tears threaten me. At last, at last! Something which can help him besides the dusei.

I swallow heavily, manage only to thank Hlil. Then the Kel retreat to the other side of the tent.

For my part, I lean against the dus yet again, watch Duncan breathe for a bit and allow a smile. His hand, the one holding his _mez_, drops softly from his lap to the floor. The veil is soaked with his blood and hits the packed dirt with a wet sound. My smile vanishes.

I try to tell myself he's been through worse. It seems he is always near death, much, much too near for my liking. Human bodies are so easily injured...resilient, yes, maybe; but everything which feels natural to me seems to be lethal to him.

_"You cannot teach him to be mri,"_ Melein once said. Yet Duncan tried, and I tried; and he has done so much that no human was intended to. He learned to handle the jumps without drugs; he has traveled the desert many times now, with me and without; he is closer to his dus than any mri has been to the beasts.

_"Don't die..._" I once wished, begged, of him. That had been when I'd hardly known him, when his _human_ ways disgusted me. Now he is mri...my brother; sov-kela. Now I wish him again not to die, fervently, so much that I feel he would know my thoughts without any dusei to carry them.

He grunts a little in his sleep and his face turns slightly towards me. I gently squeeze his shoulder again and have to look away; I use the oilwood bowl as an excuse.

Shame touches me as I look at it, though. I would have killed every kel'ein in this tent to keep Duncan alive; I had prepared myself, even. It is no secret that Duncan is closest to my heart, and I've made it clear many times that I will not tolerate any danger from the Kel towards him. They knew all this, and knew that I am nearly as tired as Duncan and edgy because of it, and sometimes impulsive without all these things on top.

Yet they risked it, put faith that I would not harm them just for coming near to help him. Or perhaps that is why they came all together.

I sigh and stroke my dus's neck, look again at Duncan. He is fast asleep, finally.

I would give anything to keep him safe. I would kill my own Kel. I would die for him; he who left the humans to become a mri.

He knows that mri will allow him to choose death if he sees need; and yet I don't know that I could let him die. I don't think I could restrain myself to keep from interfering.

I realize sharply that that is a very...tsi'mri attitude. Then...could it be that in making Duncan mri...?

I banish the thought half-formed. I glance again at the bowl, at the dusei, at Duncan, the tents, seeking something else to think on. Sleep begins to creep into my mind, making even sight difficult.

...Tsi'mri....

It frightens me.


End file.
